


Karma’s a bitch

by A_Saint_And_His_Trash



Category: Boyfriend to Death (Visual Novels)
Genre: Gender Neutral, Kidnapping, More tags to be added, Other, and lack sympathy, strade up to his usual shit, they/them pronouns, written like an xreader but more of an xoc tbh, you work in the bar
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:13:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27292495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Saint_And_His_Trash/pseuds/A_Saint_And_His_Trash
Summary: Nothing like letting a serial killer use your bar as hot spot to brighten up an otherwise boring job. Well, that’s until it causes you to catch the attention of said killer and get kidnapped and shit, but at least it ain’t boring.(Sorry, I’m probably not going to add any other chapters. I’ve been trying to distance myself from stuff like this recently and though I have written like half of the next chapter I don’t really want to finish it. For now, anyways, maybe I will at some point in the future. Also, I hope that whoever’s reading this is doing well and taking care of themself:))), see ya)
Relationships: Strade (BTD/TNR)/Original Character(s), Strade (BTD/TNR)/Reader, Strade (BTD/TNR)/You
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13





	Karma’s a bitch

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my very first fic on this account! Don’t worry, that doesn’t mean it’s shit.... probably... but of course I had to kick it off with a btd fanfic cause who doesn’t love some goreporn? apparently the majority of people but since you pressed on this I assume you do. 
> 
> Not any severe triggers here, you get knocked around a bit, after this tho it all goes down hill.
> 
> ALSO YOUR NAME IS TAYLOR SORRY IF THATS ANNOYING, MY NAME ISNT EVEN TAYLOR BUT AS I SAID IN TAGS THIS IS BASICALLY AN XOC

It really wasn’t hard to see the correlations. Every person he left the bar with would go missing on that day, he was obviously kidnapping them. At first you found it kind of weird, Strade didn’t seem like the type, he was actually relatively friendly, even sharing a conversation or two with you when ordering drinks, but you guess thats the point. If you’re friendly, it’s easier to gain trust.

You know he knows that you know, he’s not an idiot, whenever he comes in you immediately latch your eyes on to him and any person he talks to– curious– keeping little mental notes of their interactions. You have more than enough evidence to get him arrested and, maybe if you were quick enough, find the missing people, but... what’s the point? Really, it’s non of your business what Strade does, his hobbies have nothing to do with you, and honestly... it brought some “fun” to your job. He knows that you know though, and it confuses you why he hasn’t... made you “quiet” yet, maybe he can already see your not going to snitch, maybe you don’t seem worth the effort. Either way, you’re thankful, dying wasn’t really something you were that interested in.

Today though, he got you feeling a little worried.

Your eyes snap to him as soon as he walks in, and this time instead of greeting you with a quick glance, he keeps his eyes on you, a friendly grin spread on his face as he approaches the counter before sitting down. He doesn’t usually do this. Usually, he’ll sit in the corner, almost out of sight, and surveys the new costumers coming in, waiting for someone to match his taste, only coming to the counter to get a drink he’d only half finish as he waited, wanting to keep sober. This change of behaviour... disturbed you... you tried to tell yourself that maybe he was just here to get drunk today and nothing else as he orders a drink but when you look in his eyes and you find them staring back at you with a certain type of look, you know you’re wrong. You are his prey today.

You didn’t like that look, not when it was pointing towards you, you were ok seeing it laid on someone else, ok watching, but having that look directed towards you... that’s the last things you want. Surely, he wasn’t planning on doing anything, right? You study him, he looked as he did every time he came here, wearing his military wear (which would be relatively intimidating in itself if his face was a bit harder and tougher). Maybe the reason he hadn’t killed you yet was because he was waiting.

“It’s funny, despite all the times I’ve come here I don’t think I’ve ever got your name!” He laughs, voice accented. So he acknowledges that he comes here a lot.... he definitely knows you know. You continue to stare at him before realising your expression is looking rather suspicious and straightening it into a more professional look.

“Taylor” you answer him blatantly, something in your gut telling you he already knew that. You didn’t feel in control right now and it scared you.

“Taylor...” he mutters, as if to see what it tastes like on his tongue “hmm you’ve got a name that matches your face” he laughs and you let out a chuckle or two to contribute. You don’t know what to say, maybe you should tell him to leave? That’ll just annoy him, he’ll definitely want to kill you then. You feel like you need to say something though, anything, as the silence begins to consume the both of you, putting you even more on edge.

“...do you want beer nuts or something?” You say, running out of ideas. He looks at you- no- studies you for a minute, that signature friendly grin planted on his face turning a little... off.

“You know me, don’t you?” He asks, totally blanking your earlier question. A sudden rush of cold slithers over your body, making your palms a lot more sweaty than they usually are.

“Ye, I guess, you’re Strade, right?”

“Right! But, I don’t think I’ve ever told you that. You haven’t been eaves dropping on me... have you?” His usually friendly eyes turn icy. What is happening? You can’t really tell what his intent is right now but.... you feel cornered, like you said something wrong and you haven’t even said that much at all. Tired of feeling so intimidated, you straighten your back and turn away from him, cleaning a glass that didn’t really need cleaning.

“Probably, what else is there to do? This bar gets pretty boring, you’re probably the most interesting thing that happens” you say, hinting. You weren’t lying, he was the most interesting thing that happens, having a serial killer to spy on was somewhat entertaining, out of all the people to spy on, anyways.

“Interesting? Haha danke, you’re quite interesting yourself” it should just be a compliment, if it was anyone else it would just be a compliment, but catching a serial killer’s interest was not something to be flattered about.

“...thanks...” you try to come off laid-back but your fear infects your tone, making you wince and put all your attention on the glass you were cleaning, trying to signal the conversation was over. He seemed to get the point, but from that look in his eyes you can tell as whole... this was not over. As he finishes his drink, he keeps looking at the door whenever it opens as if it were a habit now, thought you can tell he has no plans for any of my costumers. You kind of wish he did so he could leave you alone; you seem to be his main interest today. Eventually he leaves once he emptied his drink, the fact he didn’t order another even when he had no victim today unsettling you, like he had something planned. The bar closed, and you cleaned up after your costumers, tidying the abandoned glasses from the tables and wiping up the spilt Guinness.

There was a feeling of dread in your stomach, because you knew he was going to come back. He did that with the rest of his victims, waited til they were alone and took them away. You had never seen it, but you could tell. Whenever they left to go to the bathroom he would follow soon after, whenever they left the bar he’d follow soon after, if he was ever the one to leave first you knew it was only so he could get a head start. So you knew, as soon as you left the bar, he’d be there, waiting.

This was so fucked.

It felt like it was a form of karma, so many people have been a victim to him, and you did nothing but watch it play out, it was only natural one day it’d be your turn. You growl to yourself, going to the back room and getting a switchblade you had left there. You didn’t really want to stab him, you didn’t even know if you would be able to, he was in the military after all, but it was more for reassurance than anything else. Locking the doors of the bar behind you, you turned to the dark streets which where absolutely covered in alley ways for Strade to hide in. You hated being this on edge, you felt weak, you just wanted to go home and sleep at this point. As you walk home you look toward the alley near the bar and, sure enough, there he was. Leaning against the alley wall, his eyes were already looking at you, mouth displaying a bit-too-friendly grin. Shit.

“Ah~ you finally came out!” He chuckles, pushing himself off the wall and walking towards you. He was actually pretty short for a dude, but you were pretty short too, not short enough where he stood totally dominating over you though, thank god. “I was starting to worry that you might have been planning to sleep there or something, luckily you’re not that stupid” he chuckles yet again and you feel your legs suppressing the urge to run. Of course you couldn’t just sleep there, there were no places to sleep, and on top of that the security of the place wasn’t top-notch. If they knew what they were doing anyone could get in, and you had a feeling he knew.

“Can you just stop beating around the bush already and kill me or something” you said, your nerves showing slightly through your voice but mostly your aggression. If this were a movie, you supposed his grin would collapse into a firm frown, eyes suddenly darkening in seriousness as you finally revealed you knew his intentions, but that’s not what happened. Instead, his grin seemed to widen and a unsettling glint flashing in his eyes as he exhaled a chuckle. Every bone in your body was practically begging you to run, but you knew that would be useless, he’s could easily grab onto your wrist at this distance and pull you back before you could even take a step, and if you did manage to escape his grip you were certain he was faster than you. He’s had military training, what did you have? A couple of PE lessons in high school? You’d probably trip as soon as you stepped foot out of the alley.

So to put it in short, you were trapped.

“Straight to the point, huh? Langweilig...” he replied, taking a step closer. From your limited knowledge of German, you realised langweilig translated to boring and you had to double check yourself; his expression looked anything but bored. He looked almost ecstatic and not a nice kind of ecstatic, like when a child gets his favourite toy as an early Christmas present, but a horrid twisted ecstatic, like he could barely contain himself from doing something most probably immoral and illegal. Unconsciously, you took a step back towards the exit of the alley and you watch as his whole body stiffens, his unchanging smile still present on his face but eyebrows subtlety pointing down as if to say ‘don’t you dare run’.

“If you’re good it’ll make this a whole lot easier for the both of us” this time his voice didn’t sound disturbingly friendly like it had been this entire time, instead it was low and laced with threat. Something about his tone and the way he was staring you down like you were some sort of prey finally made your brain catch up with what was happening. You were going to die. You were literally going to die. You knew this as soon as you saw him in the alley, of course, but only now did the word start actually meaning something, only now did you realise how fatal this situation was. You felt like you were going to throw up.

“What the fuck are you planning?!” You yell, hand drifting to your switchblade-welding pocket as your brain buzzed in fear. Your breath was growing harder and harder to gather and you could practically feel your heart bumping into your ribs as panic begins to take a hold of you. You had never thought much about what Strade does with his victims, just chalked it up to murder and moved on, but now you were the one trapped under his predator-like stare your brain was racing with the morbid possibilities. Did he torture them? Did he kill them instantly? Did he eat them? Did he rape them? Did he sell them? Did he keep them? Did he saw off their limbs? Did he burn them alive? Did he- just vaguely imagining each one as they passed through your thoughts made your entire body so incredibly cold, especially when you realised that a lot of them were probably going to become a reality.

“Now, if I told you there wouldn’t be much of a surprise, would there?” He chuckles yet again, taking another step forward and moving his hand to something in his pocket.

No. No, you weren’t going to let this happen. There was no way in hell you were going to die today, there was no way in hell he was going to force you through whatever sick and twisted plans he had, you wouldn’t let this happen. You moved your hand into your pocket, feeling the cold handle of your switchblade and taking on a attacking stance, brain too high on panic to realise Strade would probably notice something was up.

“Get the FUCK away from me!!” you yell, taking out the blade as fast as you could and slashing it in his direction, causing him to take several steps back to avoid any injury. Since he had anticipated an attack he was able to dodge pretty fast, you hoped you would have at least nicked his clothes or something but he was unscathed. His smile faltered, lips slacking slightly in concentration and annoyance. Of course he expected you to bring a weapon, but that doesn’t make it any less bothersome.

“I guess you’re choosing the hard way...” his voice was lower than ever and you practically growled in response, ready to aim for his throat if he tried to move closer. Your grip on the switchblade was tight like you were afraid your sweaty palms would cause it to slip out of your grasp, making your knuckles whiten and hand shake from all the tension. You watched him, convincing yourself that he was the one trapped now, that you had the upper hand, that you had won, that no matter what next move he made you could stab him so he wasn’t going to do any-

Your brain screams at you to move when you realise he had launched himself at you, but the wait time for the information to get to your brain and for your body to react in a way that matters wasn’t fast enough and before you knew it he had crashed your body against the brick wall beside them, whiplashing your head back into the concrete and covering your vision with dark spots. Whilst you processed what just happened he reached for you knife welding hand, grabbing it by the wrist and stretching it away from him. You didn’t even know what was happening, too occupied with the sharp pain on the side of your head and the feeling of your skin scrapping harshly down the rough wall to even think about fighting back. You could feel him pressing you to the wall, you could see him a bit too but your vision was so messed up there could have been a rainbow-coloured dog in front of you right now and you would have been non the wiser. There was a sharp clanking like a mental object falling to the ground and you realise your hand wasn’t holding anything anymore. You could hardly feel horror, feel anything about anything, your consciousness threatening to slip from such a heavy blow to your head, trying as hard as you humanly could to stay awake.

“This could have been so much easier if you’d just listened” You heard Strade tut, voice muffled in your ears and words not making much sense through your concussion. Moving his grip off your now empty hand, he reached into his pocket and took out a rag, shoving it into your face and forcing you to inhale the fumes. Even through your dizzy mind you recognised it has chloroform. “I didn’t want to have to beat you up so badly before we’ve even started, I like a clean slate, you know?” His voice had gone back to normal, cheerful and friendly, like this was just another casual conversation. “It’s such a shame, I’ve been waiting quite a while for this and you had to go and ruin it... and to pull a knife on me too? That’s not how you treat a friend at all...” he babbles on, but as you continue to breath from the rag you can feel your consciousness becoming harder and harder to grasp until finally it fades away, eyes far too heavy to keep open and too tired to try.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh noooooo, he got ya, dun been got, what will become of you?
> 
> prolly something not good, yikes
> 
> stay tuned for when i can be bothered to finish the next chapter, cause imma lazy bastard.


End file.
